Less Talk - A Hangman Story

Part IV

A/N: Yay! I'm back!! Get ready for some mild angst and a whole lotta pining <3

.....

"So?" Bradley asks, smirking up at Jake as he gulps down some orange juice with a slight cringe. "How was last night?"

Jake gives him an annoyed look, turning off the burner on the stove with a little more aggression than necessary. He lifts the lid off the egg poacher and grabs a plate in silence.

"That good, huh?" Bradley says.

Jake shakes his head crossly and lets out a disgruntled sigh, sliding a couple of eggs onto his plate. He holds up the poacher and looks at his roommate. "Want some?"

Bradley nods, rising from the table and walking into the kitchen. "Thanks."

"You can thank me by being less irritating," Jake says tersely.

Bradley snorts. "My, my," he says, taking his breakfast back into the dining room. "Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

Jake sets his plate down and looks at Bradley sourly. "What did I just say?"

"Alright, alright." Bradley holds up his hands to indicate that he's done riling him. "We won't talk about it. We can pretend it never happened."

Jake takes a bite out of his toast. "Nothing did happen."

Bradley is watching Jake with a sympathetic grin. "Does that disappoint you?"

Jake rolls his eyes. "For fuck's sake, Bradshaw. What'll it take to get some peace and quiet around here? Between you and Y/N, I haven't had a moment's rest."

Bradley eyes him patiently. "I'm sorry, man," he says. "I'll stop. But I'm here if you need to get something off your chest."

Jake gives him a flat look. It bugs him when his friends demonstrate love and compassion, and Bradley Bradshaw is notorious for that shit. His genuine desire to help makes Jake uncomfortable as fuck. He prefers the ribbing any day of the week; at least he could respond in kind. "There's nothing on my chest, Rooster," he says harshly. "There's nothing on my mind," he continues. "Nothing going on anywhere."

Bradley nods at him skeptically. "Okay."

Jake sighs loudly, ensuring that Bradley is aware of just how irritated he is. "Except," he says, pausing to take another bite of toast. "Your damn bestie is a fucking nuisance."

"How so?" Bradley asks, trying to contain a grin.

Jake scoffs. "Well, for one thing," he says. "She unplugged our fucking fan."

Bradley's eyebrows converge. "She what?"

"Yeah." Jake nods. "And she called me a moron."

Bradley makes a face. "She did not."

Jake shrugs. "More or less. Whatever. She told me I 'helped her' yesterday, whatever the fuck that means."

Bradley squints his eyes, smiling. "I think it means you helped her."

Jake stares at him bitterly. "I'm not planning on being her friend," he says.

Bradley shrugs. "You don't have to be her friend."

"I don't like her."

Bradley raises his eyebrows. "Okay."

"Why are we even talking about her?" Jake lets out another frustrated sigh.

Bradley grimaces. "I don't think I started it this time."

Jake looks up at him, distressed at his escalating resentment toward you and Bradley and the damn grackles outside the kitchen window that just won't shut the fuck up. He steadies his breathing. "Have you heard from her this morning?" he asks quietly. "Is she okay?"